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SANDHYA, SONGS OF TWILIGHT 



SANDHYA 

SONGS OF TWILIGHT 



BY 



DHAN GOPAL MUJERKI 

AUTHOR OF "LAYLA-MAJNU" 
AND "RAJANI" 




NINETEEN SEVENTEEN 

PAUL ELDER AND COMPANY 

SAN FRANCISCO 



Copyright, igiy 
By Paul Elder and Company / 

San Francisco .^ ' '*'' <J* 



^ x4- 




^C!.A473276 



TO 
MRS. HANCOCK BANNING 
MRS. WILLIAM CLARK, JR. 



FOREWORD 

T IKE^'Rajani'' [perhaps more than\'^ Sandhya' 
'^is a slender rill that has drawn its music from 
my Bengali which has told upon its English structure, 
nis and many other faults of these poems are due to 
their unyielding adherence to spontaneity, 

'' Sandhya' came then, as "" RajanV in its own 
way through the bed of my Bengali reflecting its sound 
and sense, and trying to echo back its music that 
descends on all with the fading twilight. 

Dhan Gopal Mukerji. 

A^. 5. — Since some of these poems were born without, and 
defy titles y I have refrained from forcing any on them. 



CONTENTS 



POEM 

Symbolism i 

Source of Singing 2 

'With purple shadows the mist measures the infinite sea" 3 

'O, Old! O, New!" 4 

'The FAR AWAY CALLED her" 5 

Lassitude 6 

'Ah! PALE, cool lips that burn" 7 

Forlorn 8 

After a Bengali Song 9 

MOONRISE lo 

At Ventura, California n 

'The SAME AIR THAT YOU breathe" 12 

'Why this RETURN?" 13 

'By THE VERGE OF THE woodland" I4 

The Dream of His Soul I5 

The Eurasian i" 

'In THE perfumed shrine OF love" 17 

The Infirm Beggar Sings i8 

'Kiss, my love, kiss" 19 

Color-Harmonies 20 

Sanatan (The Absolute) 21 

Coming of the Fog 2a 

'In love's afterglow, full OF stars" 23 

The End 24 

The Confluence 25 

'In the deeps OF Dream" 26 

To Leo B. Mihan 27 

Chopin's Funeral March 28 

"In the golden afterglow you lay" 29 

Henrik Ibsen 3© 

After Hearing "My Old Kentucky Home" ... 31 

The Coming of the Tide of Night 32 

Dead Love 33 

"It is the same twilight, dear" 34 

Weariness 35 

"A call, NOT A song" 3^ 

Remorse 37 

Poet 38 

Wanderer 39 



page 
3 
4 
5 
6 
8 

lo 
II 

12 
13 
14 

15 
16 

17 
18 

19 

20 
21 
22 
23 
24 

25 
26 

27 
28 

30 
31 
32 

33 
34 
36 
37 
38 
39 
40 
42 
43 
44 
45 
46 



[VII] 



CONTENTS, Continued 

POEM 

At Dawn 40 

'From HER MANY-COLORED BOW, Nature" .... 41 

'If WORDS FAIL, SONG WILL come" 42 

Rainy Night 43 

Ghosts 44 

Rain 45 

Evening Worship 46 

'The ROSY mist STILLY polishes THE ROUND mirror" . 47 

'The sun's golden spear" 48 

Truce 49 

A Parallel 50 

' 'Nothing endures,' you said" 51 

Disappointment 52 

Buddha 53 

'Ask me not to stand at thy friendship's gate" . , 54 

'Golden vines they" 55 

At Sundown 56 

'Tears well out from my heart" 57 

'At last THOU comest" 58 

'The lingering light OF THE sun" 59 

'i have drunk your tears with insatiate lips" . . 6o 

Sound Butterflies (In a Fountain) 61 

'Even IN SADNESS THOU ART BESIDE me" .... 62 

By THE sea of SLEEP WALKS WHITE-ROBED Night" . . 62 

Farewell (After a Hindustani Song) .... 64 

Satiety 65 

'Drowsy THE NOONDAY air" 66 

Chatterton 67 

'A summer song it was" 68 

Who Knows" 69 

The First Vision 70 

Shanti 71 



47 

48 

49 

50 
51 

52 

54 
55 
56 
57 
58 
59 
60 
61 
62 

63 
64 

^5 
66 

67 
68 
69 

70 

71 
72 

74 
75 
76 
77 
78 
80 
82 



[ VIII ] 



SANDHYA, SONGS OF TWILIGHT 



I 

SYMBOLISM 

Tongueless the bell ! 
Lute without a song! 
It is not night 
It is God's dawn, 
Silence its unending song. 

Over heart 's valley, 
In the soul 's night. 
Through pain 's window 
Behold! His light! 
On Life 's Height. 

No prayer, now. 
Though death-waves roll. 
Faith's candle lit. 
Beside it sits the soul 
Reading Eternity's scroll. 



[3] 



2 
SOURCE OF SINGING 

A bruised heart, 
A wounded soul, 

A broken lute, 
That is all! 

A sad evening, 
And a lone star. 

Then song reddens — 
Sets lifers forest afire! 



4] 



With purple shadows the mist measures the 

infinite sea 
That spreads her wave-raiment in lavender, violet, 

gray, and green; 
While with thin silver rays a lone star seeks to 

sound the deeps. 

The breeze-wings tire of flight; 

The mist-threads weave a rose-fringed dusky 

drapery 
To cover the bare breasts of the dunes from the 

moon's langour-heavy eyes. 

The shadows die in purple silence; 
Fades the one star from the sky, 
As the dark mist puts out the rose-red moon from 
its deep. 

Pale gleams the lighthouse light; 

No warring waves break the peace of sleep tonight 

Nor a hungry wind shrieks in pain from the lea. 

Under her heavy veil of black 
A languid sea sluggishly flows 
To some far land of forsaken dreams. 



[5] 



4 
"O, OLD! O, NEW!"* 

Who are you ? 

Why make me wait 

From the hour of dew 

Till another sunset? 

Why do I look 

For your coming? 

Listen to the weeping brook 

That might bring 

To my lonely shore 

A word from you. 

Ah, nothing! not a leafs tremor! 

O, old ! O, longed for new ! 

Who are you? I ask; 

Know not why I seek 

From day to dusk 

Without waking or sleep, — 

No sleep! no waking! 

A dreaming, a longing; 

Not knowing, yet seeking. 

For your coming waiting — 

O, spring-born ! 

O, autumn-clad! 

O, soul 's new morn ! 

O, old !0, glad! 

So glad, so young! 

O, unseen, unknown, 

O, fugitive vision! 

O, eternal moan 

In my heart — 



*"0, Old! O, New!" is the cry of a "Poati," e. g., a mother's cry to her 
unborn child. "Poati" has no precise English synonym. 



6] 



O, tearful Soul of laughter, 

Untouched, unhurt, 

O, sweet! O, bitter! 

My born yet unborn, 

Shadow not fallen 

O, undawning morn — 

O, message unbroken. 

Why, how, when ? 

I wait, wait for you, 

O embrace of earth and heaven; 

0,01d!0,New! 



[7I 



5 

The far away called her — 

A pilgrim on the hope-lit bark of youth, 

A woman, a child, a soul 

On an argosy for the lands of south. 

It called her in her dreams; 

Her waking into a deeper dream grew; 

The flute of the distant 

Played ceaselessly the music of the new. 

With words of fire it called her, 
Beyond the bourne of her days 
To a silent sea of joy 
Washed by unending twilight-rays. 

It called her at dawn 

When night shed the star-jewels from her 

hair; 
It called her at sunset 
When the moon mutely ascended the 

heaven's stair. 

It called her without ceasing — 
Hour after hour but a calling. 
Till "Come, come, come!" 
At her soul's door kept repeating: 



18] 



Come, come, come! — in 
Her word, her music, her song; 
Far away, near, far again 
Heedless of nightfall and dawn. 

It called, it cried, it prayed. 
Till She, the deity, made answer 
Through youth, through age, through death 
To her own far away's receding star. 



[9 



LASSITUDE 

Ah! to be able to sing, 
To sorrow in melody; 
To string with silver 
Sorrow 's dark harp 1 

Or, mount every thorn 
Crowning life's brow 
With lustrous stars — 
Those tears of the sky 

Rolling down its face 
When night's hand puts 
Darkness's crown on its head 
As twilight dies. 

None of these, for my soul; 

Only to weep is given to me. 

To nourish my heart's crop 

For the scythe of barrenness to reap. 



[lo] 



Ah ! pale cool lips that burn, 

Body that yields, though unyielding. 

Oh, moon with the heat of the sun ! 

Flashing out a million lights 

To cleave into nothing the endless 

firmament of my being. 
Take all; my soul's mistress! heart's queen. 
The flaming fancies of my dream-tortured 

night 
The intoxicating fruits of my day dream, 
Thefiery lotus of my senses' delight - 
That rises from the abyss of my life. 
The abysmal heaven of love and living 
Now bruised, burnt, torn and thrown 
To the winds of thy ravishing rejoicing 
Whose inarticulate words of delight and 

moan 
Make the ever-yielding music of my soul. 



[^11] 



8 
FORLORN 

In the star-blurred hours of the night 
When the cloud-dams stay the flow of winds, 
Not even the shadow of a meteor moves, 
As in the watch-tower of love I sit; 
Through the casement of hope look for thy 

coming 
Along the moss-grown path of stones — 
Those agonies that time has built on my 

soul — 
By the unfathomable lake of my tears 
Shed when even prayers had failed 
To bring thy returning. 
Come, destroyer of my peace and sleep, 
Plunderer of lights of my days! 
Enigma on the scroll of my fate 
Before the lightnings fired my tower 
And thunders crashed in my life's sky. 
Only send the echo of thy footfalls — 
The ring of thy song. 
And a star — reflection of thy smile — 
Those million suns in the firmament of my 

dawn. 



12 



9 
AFTER A BENGALI SONG 

In the forest of my being the voice of your lute; 
In the depth of my heart the pearl of your tear; 
In the temple of my soul chimes the bell of your 
love. 

The fire of dawn, shadow of eve. 

Life's sorrow, and death's mute-enchanting peace 

Steal away silently, fearfully, at thy flute's music. 

O, frail, faint call which I seek to echo! 

O, breath of love laden with the aroma of my soul! 

Why seek I ever without, O guest at my door? 



13] 



lO 

MOONRISE 

A soft light mantle of rose wear the brown hills 
As they look down on the valley where the rills 
Spin their long silver embroideries 
For the fringe of spring's greened draperies. 

The cloud-banks recede with the fading breeze, 
The warblers fall into silence in the trees 
To listen to many-colored dream-melodies 
That the mute stars make on sleep's endless seas. 

The last light flickers out of the sky, 
Shadows with golden feet o'er the green valley hie; 
The silver rills trill like warblers from earth's deeps 
As the moon, the sun of another dawn, heavenward 
leaps. 



14] 



II 

AT VENTURA, CALIFORNIA 

The moon rises and washes the brine with 

silver; 
The dunes like white elephants restfully asleep 

after the chase; 
And the fog comes to bring the moon its veil 

of shades. 
The waves stretch their phosphorescent arms 
To embrace the night, 

The wind like a wounded gull beats its wings 
Over the land, over the sea, into the fog-vested 

intangibility. 

Like a thousand trumpets the breakers 
Proclaim the empiry of night, 
The rocky caverns send back echoes 
Like homage from vassals near and far; 
A faint cry seemeth to flash like lightning; 
Through the clouds of the roar of waves: 
It is not from the rocks, nor from the sea; 
Ah ! it is the prayer of a mightier ocean — 
Humanity! 



[15 



12 

The same air that you breathe 

Is the air that caresses my sky; 

The sunlight that lingers on your hair and lips 

Sets fire to the pathway of my life; 

And the call of nature's numberless birds 

But reflects in world's mirror the music of our 

heart's singing — 
Melody-made of sweet agonies, 
Exquisite joys poured from pitchers of pain, 
As this summer's heat 
From the ever-burning heart of heaven. 
Not heaven alone; 

The earth, the air, flowers, and leaves 
Filled with passion that knows no slaking. 
Yet tranquil like sleep's dream-billowed sea. 
More than dream-billowed sea this love that I 

bring. 
Its boistrous waves seek the firmament of your 

yielding; 
While your heart-beats' arrows seek to slay my 

heart a'beating. 
As I inhale the fragrance of your breath and hair; 
And pour the perfume of my soul 
On your sun-bathed feet. 



i6] 



13 

Why this return ? 

Why this sunlight 

When all seemed without sun ? 

Whence this call? 

I cannot tell. 

Yet its mighty thralls 

Hold me, haunt me 
Hour after hour. 
With its name of thee. 

All seems ended, 

The last Hght lost 

In the house of the dead. 

Yet with time's tide 

Rises thy face. 

My heart, my soul, my bride. 

Though poureth the rain. 
And sorrow clouds my sky, 
Yet not mine the pain. 

What I hear 
I can not tell. 
And what I fear 

Will not endure: 

But thou returnest, 

O serene, O silent, O pure! 



[17] 



14 

By the verge of the woodland. 

Where purling brooks loosen their brown 

tresses. 
Where the music of the breeze 
Is played on viols of the vines and trees, 
Thy soft words I hear 
Like songs from enchantment's strings. 
Ah, vanishing moments of ecstacy ! 
Far-fleeing only to be nearer to my soul. 
Rest, rest awhile on the hillside of my 

echoing! 
Pour on it the sweet rain of thy words* 

melody 
Till they mingle and drown my tears 
Into thy kisses* passion-swept sea. 



i8] 



15 

THE DREAM OF HIS SOUL 

The Dream of his Soul, in flesh and 

blood — 
Not to possess, but only to see — 
Was given him, for an hour: 
Ah, fool, he lingered longer, — 
The Dream died like the shadow of a 

Star! 



[19] 



i6 

THE EURASIAN 

Indignity your part today, 

Suffering the guerdon of the gods; 

No country to claim your own, 

Nowhere to lay your head. 

The ocean of ignorance separates us; 

The snow-storm of commerce blinds the 
eye; 

Yet you must stand true, 

Bridge of blood and flesh between the 
West and East. 
. In ages to come, when 

Man will love his brother. 

Irrespective of birth and breed; 

In the pantheon of the future, yours the 
immortal seat. 

Son of man, you are brother! 

Bearer of the cross of God ! 

Your destiny the lodestar of our epoch. 

Your life our rood-littered road of the 
Lord. 

Arise, awake, halt not 

Till the goal is reached; 

Raise high the Host of freedom 

Blare the trumpet of light. 
"Suffer you, for the world to rejoice"; 
"Die" so they "can live"; 

Live that you may bring the light 

To the meeting place of the West and 
East. 



20 



I? 

In the perfumed shrine of love, 

Where burns memory's exhaustless incense 

From the irridescent thurible of hope, 

On the altar and couch of my heart 

Rest thy limbs, O, god of my soul. 

Drink of the unquenchable draught of caresses; 

Tear the flowers of my dreams and fancies; 

Scatter the sacred petals of my passion 

To the four winds of thy rejoicing. 

Thy rejoicing, that one festival of the High Gods, 
Where no offering that I bring ever be too dear. 
Where no soul burnt in the fire of senses can perish; 
Where no suffering fails to be mother and 

daughter of joy. 
Take all, great God among these Gods: 
The pearl of my woman-soul buried in deeps of 

passion. 
The coral-wreath from the ocean of my bleeding 

heart; 
And ravish with exquisite merciless touch 
The one star in my heaven that has led thee 

hither — 
My life's eternity in this worship of an hour. 



[21] 



I8 

THE INFIRM BEGGAR SINGS 

Broken and bruised by the hand of Fate, 

Dark night, my staff. 
Leaning on its shadowy strength I walk 

Toward thee, my God. 
Thy crescent my e'er-present friend; 

Thy wind, thy voice. 
Calls me to go on without end 

To thy star that my soul hath seen. 
The hour is black, my road unbuilt; 

My beggar's song 
I cannot sing; yet, thou knowest. 

For thy love I long! 
I come, O Lord! broken and battered 

To thy world where sorrow is not. 



[22] 



19 

Kiss, my love, kiss 

My burning, breaking being; 

So when cold death 

Will put out the light 

In some wilderness 

Of far forsaken life 

Might each kiss blossom 

Into a lotus and a Shephali.* 

And in the desolate hours 

Of loneliness of traveling 

In the dusk of despair 

One petal of these 

Will cheer the vagrant souls 

That tread the pathway 

Of love's forsaking. 

Or, when Death will sow 

This Soul of mine 

On the lake-shore of sorrow. 

Like a weeping willow I will spring, 

And with my green tresses 

And bending body 

Shall shelter secrecy-seeking lovers 

That love for an hour. 

As our twin hearts today. 

Kiss then, with kisses of flame; 

Touch me with rosy caresses; 

Bury this, my hope, my dream, 

And thy all-conquering love of me; 

So the kiss-flowers may each be a 

dream! 
May my willow be the vision of 

Eternal Spring. 

*Flovvers full of perfume, abounding in Lower Bengal, India. 

[23] 



20 
COLOR-HARMONIES 

Violet hills, 

Rosy mist, 

Limpid pool. 

Golden notes from sunset's lute 

For shadows 

Draped in green 

With purple feet 

To dance and swim 

Through irridescent undulatings. 

Dusk descends; 

Mauve cloudlets — 

Dying butterflies — 

Flit and fly and die 

In the opalescent ocean of mist 

That grows dark and still. 

Kisses away the last gold 

From the brow of the hills; 

Till the coral crescent 

With its wand of breeze 

Makes silver ripple-music 

On the pool's shadow-laden deeps. 



iH 



21 

SANATAN 
(THE ABSOLUTE)* 

Our hopes that fail 

Are but truths that set 

To illumine other spirits on their pathway; 

As our joys that come true 

Are their far-off dreams. 

That through the cadence of our life 

Ring out their pent-up tunes. 

Whatever dies — needs must live. 

Whatever breathes doth die too; 

But above death and life 

Shines that High Light 

Where all find rest, 

Yet endlessly move. 



*The word absolute is the synonym for the Sanskrit word Sanatan, mean- 
ing Eternal and Immutable 'Truth. 

[25] 



22 

COMING OF THE FOG 

Killing the light, 
Blurring the stars, 
Marring the breeze — 
Nature's many-stringed harp — 

It comes 

Silently, sinisterly, 

Over the land, over the sea, 

Spreading its beggar-raiment of brown. 

Without stop, without sound. 
Over the valley 
Like a great serpent of silence 
Coiling around the heart of sound. 

A damp insidiousness 
Creeps into the night; 
A drab numbness sets in 
Dripping in lugubrious drops 
From the haggard fingers 
Of the autumn trees. 

It strangles the last sound, 
It devours the last light, 
Trembles in fear 
To see its own visage; 

It moves on, on, and around. 
Ceaselessly, untiringly. 
Till the black night is drowned 
In an abyss of brown. 

[26] 



23 
In lovers afterglow, full of stars, 
Those lilies of the river of night, 
Sing no song, dear, speak no word. 

The white noontide has ebbed into gold; 
Shore-breaking seas cease to roar; 
Lo! the moonrise of our soul. 

Hardly a kiss, or the shadow of a caress; 
No decking the hour with the jasmines of 

touch; 
But a rose-petal shivering in exquisite agony- 

our love. 

The weary sunset has grown wearier; 

A vague lassitude encircles us twain, 

As separation builds its pathway of tears. 

Cease weeping, yet the saffron light lingers; 
The stars throb in nebulous lustre, 
As our hearts to the music of desire. 

What matters if winter be nigh? 

We sang summer to sleep. 

And autumn on its bed of leaves. 

Now comes the hour of parting for us, 
As the last light flickers and fades; 
Even love's afterglow dying, and is dead. 

Alas! thou art gone, as are the hours of day; 
The hard gem-burning stars do not set ! Oh, 
In what dark, in what forest roamest thou? 

[27] 



24 
THE END 

Art thou about me 

Amid falling leaves 

And autumn 's circling winds 

When the golden shadows 

Grow russet and rosy 

And the purple sunset sets fire to the sky? 

Art thou the breath 

That burns my being 

When cold feel my limbs in terror, and 

awe? 
Who art thou ? My love ? 
Stranger in a strange garb ! 
Far and farther to be nearer to my heart! 
Why make spring-flames leap 
From passion 's autumn leaves ? 
Why this urge through fatigue 
When time falls fast asleep 
Under the shadow of its grave — 
The winter ice? 
Yet, and yet 
The circling winds 
Repeat passionate speech. 
The sunset burns. 
As my soul 
In desire's golden heat. 



28 



Though night be not far 

Shadows creep near 

With chilling breath and clutching hands 

To pluck 

To destroy 

The flowers of yielding from your heart : 

Powerless, fear-stricken ; 

I tremble, I stagger, I fall 

Into oblivion's pit 

As time creeps 

Into winter's grave 

Silent, empty, white. 



[29 



25 

THE CONFLUENCE 

Tears of Ages come in a stream, 
Sighs flow in from Life's hoary height, 
Souls of Sorrow bring their gleam 
Of a light that is but a moan, not a sight. 

The gray waves of the Sea of Death 
Congeal under the cold Sun of Suffering, 
While Time, playing the flute of Fate, 
Charms them, snake-like, and doth bring 

Out of a Cave, beyond Lights and Shades 
Present's storm, — made stormier by Future's 

promises, — 
To mingle in the Ocean of Death 
Like Sleep, yielding to Dream's caresses. 



30 



26 

In the deeps of Dream 

O'er the pool of Sleep 

A lone star her face 

Seeking, with song-kindled eyes 

Her Isle of Rest. 

Across the dusky hills 
The first flush of waking 
Unfurls its silver banner 
To signal the Isle for her: 
She vanishes, as before, into 
the fading Night. 

Thus the Eye of Life 
Searches for the home of Peace 
Night after night: 
And when the sun of Death rises 
It flees, — it loves its own night. 



31] 



27 

TO 

LEO B. MIHAN 

Few notes out of the coffer of sound, 
An image from the gallery of Nature, 
An hour from the infinity of Time, — 
Out of these, blessed creature. 
Greatest thou the world of endless rhyme! 



[32 



28 
CHOPIN'S FUNERAL MARCH 

The keyboard black and white; 
Shadow-Light the Evening's scale; 
Half silent the voice of thy singing. 
Quiver the notes in pain; 
Exquisite, sad, the melody at thy touch; 
Like the silver arrow of Desire 
Piercing the Soul 's golden heart. 

The room is lost in dark. 
The ivory keys, white fringe 
Of a music long since mute; 
Yet, in the black night 
Tremble and toss notes 
Unheard, undreamt, — like sleep 
Sleepless, and waking full of smart. 



33] 



29 

In the golden afterglow you lay, 

When the emerald nioon 

Made thin silver fog-veils 

For the bride of night. 

Whose saffron-sandled feet 

Walked the foam-strewn floor of the sea. 

In my arms you listened 

To words of love 

Poured by the infinite heaven of my 

heart, 
Echoed by the endless symphony of the 

sky. 
Your silent gaze, 
Deeper than the song of the sea. 
Farther than the moon. 
Nearer than your own heart-beat. 
Asked mine for speech. 
"What can my love say 
At this sad sacred hour?" 
Hour of parting this! 
Love's ever-feared moment. 
Longing 's much-dreaded end, 
Yet no voice sorrows in our being, 
No woe dims the moon-face tonight. 



34 



Between the sheltering dunes and fading 

light 
On an aerial couch lying, 
Adorned in kiss-woven garments of 

nudity 
Our spirits garlanded with myriad 

embraces, 
Borne on passion 's flaming wings 
Cross this ocean of parting 
Unto that far island of Cythera 
Where only love reigns 
In eternal majesty. 



35 



30 
HENRIK IBSEN 

Lone as the lone north star, 

Stern as the rocks that guard the sanctity 

of his home, 
Pure as the white snow of his land. 
And beauteous his visions like the fjords 
At each turn of the mariner 's helm. 

The lofty glaciers engage his eyes. 
As life's height the sight of his mind; 
And his Imagination, expansive as the sea. 
Tries to push the boundary-line of the sky, 

his Soul, 
Further and further, where a new North 

Star 
Awaits his exploring eye. 



[36 



31 
AFTER HEARING "MY OLD KENTUCKY HOME" 

I know not whose the words, 

Nor the maker of their music; 
In my sorrow-laden heart 
The aroma of its pathetic art 

Like the soothing breath of dream. 

Joy borrows its charm from sorrow; 
Sorrow feverish with the color of joy; 

An opaque crystal, a stone on hfe's 
string 

Made of music that doth ring 
As the stars on the lyre of night. 

A pain it is, made perfect; 

A call made clear by the voice of peace; 
A silver stream of song 
Darkened, yet floweth on and on 

Between black banks of memory, into the 
Soul's white home. 



37 



32 
THE COMING OF THE TIDE OF NIGHT 

Pale this twilight-face, 
Shade-ridden the horizon-light; 
The forest, a green-gold vision of grace 
In its frame of lavender mist. 

No rose-leaf washed in moonlight; 
No vine on vermilion walls; 
Pale sunlight fading into night, 
Dark tunes, the music of the hour. 

No death, nor life is ours, here; 
But the vast vague sea of black 
Sounded by star-mariners 
Seeking the Infinite's track. 



38 



33 

DEAD LOVE 

Pour no blood on ashes, brother, 

That is not the way; 

Better say nothing, 

Blood is no life-giver; 

It makes death look so gay. 

Dead life, or dead love 

Need no blood at all. 

No trumpet's call can 

Bring back what you lived, and strove: 

The ashes know no thrall! 

Why cry for a colored glass 
That for jewel you took; 
The magic — the dream — 
All returning to dust and grass. 
Not a day love your soul forsook. 

At last, you have known it. 

That is more than they do. 

Be not afraid, O friend. 

Alone, alas, alone! you have loved and 

lived it. 
Pour no blood on the ashes, for blood can 

not turn into dew. 



39] 



34 

It is the same twilight, dear, 
The hour of love and tear 
When in raiments of shadows 
Fancies, fears, hopes, and sorrows 
Tread the path of sunset, 
While like barks of jet 
Float the clouds from east to west. 

I think of thee, my darling. 

As in my heart strange chords ring 

Out melodies of many memories. 

And half-forgotten reveries 

Telling of this or that scene, 

That is and has been 

Trod by thee. Queen of queens. 

My dreams of thee are ceaseless. 
As my love of thee is endless; 
Whether it be sunset or sunrise, 
Hour of star-song, or bird-cries 
It is of thee that I dream, 
In the heart of my soul's stream 
That flows to thy feet, my darling. 



[40] 



Dark grows both east and west; 
Flower-heads droop into rest, 
As I seek to lay my heart and loving 
On thy star-white breast, my darling, 
And sink into that pool of sleep 
That rises from thy singing's deep, 
While all are silent, as my desires near 
thee, my Queen. 

What peace thy presence breathes! 
What serenity weaves its wreathes ! 
What myriad wonders touch hands 
Across many seas, from many lands, 
When a thought of thee 
Heralds thy coming to me 
Between palpitating desires, and fragrant 
dreams. 



[41] 



3S 
WEARINESS 

Weariness the tune of this evening melody, 

Pain the lute to which I sing; 

Ah! goddess, why this gray measure 

In thy starry harmony? 

The white conch* of the half-moon 
Silent as though all worship's ceased. 
No incense-perfume from the forest censer 
The breeze brings; all still, like torrid noon. 

I row in a black bark on a copper-colored 

sea. 
The sun fades like a golden bubble in its 

deep; 
Weariness the chart that I hold in my hand. 
Weariness the tune of this evening melody. 



*In a Hindu temple conch shells are blown during or at the close ot a 
worship. 

[42] 



36 ■ 

A call, not a song; 

A command, not a prayer; 

No mellowing moonlight, but dawn, 

Frail, fanciful, and fair 

In the east of my dream and desire. 

At the portal of unending desire. 

Draped in diaphanous dreams. 

With a whispered word of fire 

That quivers and gleams 

Through the clouds of my longing. 

Longings poignant with pains and tears 

Enfold, and fill my soul 

That aches with hopes and fears 

As thy chariot wheels' roll 

Sets fire with torches of gold 

To my words, my silences, my singing. 

And to this black pyre of my life 

To take my being on the wings of thy 

embracing 
To sail away, far away from man 's hate and 

strife 
Where only love reigns on its throne of 

unending light. 



43 



37 
REMORSE 

Gently descending dark — 
Curtain of silence 
From heaven to earth; 

The drama of day over, 
Empty the seats of life, 
Dead the twilight fire. 

Curtains of black 

Woven from threads of purple 

By the hands of a star. 

That lone soul weeping 
Over the dead hours 
Laid by mute time in the eternal's 
grave. 

In the night of my soul 

Not even a ray, 

Nor a mourner present; 

But a deep dark hollow 
Where no fate weeps 
Even fear is afraid to tread: 

Fear-forsaken, hollow within hollow. 
Even silence flees from me — 
O, the pity of it! 



44] 



38 
POET 

To distil a few golden drops of song 

Through the gloom of this hour; 

To filter true emotions 

Through passion 's burning fire 

When the sun bubble-like fades in the west; 

As our being craves for night's rest 

That pool of silver in life's forest of distress. 

To light some pale candles 

In the cavern of a lonely isle 

And draw the wine of day 

From the must of midnight, 

Or plant a star-seed in the gray-ploughed 

eve — 
So out of the abyss of the blackness of night 
Dawn's million-colored fountain might 

spring. 



[45] 



39 
WANDERER 

The silvery beach, a riband around the flowing hair 

of the sea. 
Where gleam the foam-flowers garlanded in 

multitudinous nebulous rings: 
Here, on the frontier of many worlds and the 

billow-rocked cradle of eternal sleep. 
No sound, no music, no silence that a wounded 

soul can heal. 

A longing more tempestuous than the craven 

breeze-possessed deep. 
And tears that outweigh the salt of the woeful 

brine, 
Yet no sleep dream-robbed, or dream-laden, nor 

even death's pallid peace; 
But a ceaseless crying over my heart 's forsaken 

valleys 
Where love Hke a wraith haunts the empty tombs 

of memory. 



46 



40 

AT DAWN 

With the breath of dawn 

CooHng thy feverish brow, 

And the fading of the last footfall of the 

stars 
No kiss can I bring to thy bedside. 
Nor caresses of coohng fire, my sweet. 
Yet through this dreamful silence 
That writes on the rim of the golden light 
The story of our love 
With most eloquent poignancy. 
More love we pour into each other 
Than the tryst of an eternal night. 



47 



41 

From her many-colored bow Nature 
Has hurled her silver arrows of rain 
And slain the hosts of Dark. 

Jeweled with a single star, the Moon 

Walks the garden of Night; 

Higher and higher 

Through the star-enflowered pathways of 

sapphire 
She draws her train of silver. 



48 



42 

If words fail, song will come; 

If thought fades, souls will not be dumb; 

If sound ceases, Silence our song; 

If Life fails, — Death join our hands. 



49] 



43 
RAINY NIGHT 

Like tears shed over a dream. 
Like sighs that stream 
In an unseen nameless way 
Into the heart of our lay. 

It seemed hour on hours. 
Years like fading flowers 
Scattered their petals and bloom 
In a half-ht forest of gloom. 

The softness of its sounds, 
Like the coursing of a million hounds 
Of dream over the glade of sleep 
Where tortured silences creep. 

Exquisite, pain-laden, peaceful. 
This night most beautiful. 
What love forsaken by loving 
Sets his heart a'singing? 

No torment in it, but tenderness; 
A liquid star-music of sadness 
Pours into my soul half asleep; 
While the willows at my window weep. 



50] 



44 
GHOSTS 

Flames flickered in the fireplace, 
As memories on the hearth of life; 
Two shadows we, watching, brooding, 
To catch our reflection 
In a non-existent stream. 

The ghost- witness of it all, 
The clock brings its proofs; 
Moments melt into moments, 
Like notes of sad music, 
Like a white cerement 

Cold memories shroud our life; 
Speech flees before this; 
Faces turn away from each other; 
The fire throws light on them; 
There, too, flames burn and flicker. 



51 



45 
RAIN 

What world-agony distils its poignancy this 

day? 
What pain-laden heart pours out its 

exhaustless lay 
Of tormenting woe and tortured silences ? 

From the far reaches of the marshland 
Along and beyond the crescent-bed of the 

sea-sand 
What tempest on the wave's-strings makes its 

cadences ? 

The distant hills dimmed like dull and 

forgotten dreams 
Raise their shadowy heads where pour in 

streams 
The tears of the heart-hollowed mourners of 

the skies; 

While into the turgid heart of the fens at 

their feet 
Turbidly fall and dance sheet upon sheet 
To the measureless measure of the wind *s 

empty sighs. 

No light but a dismal gray, that neither 
throbs nor quivers 

On the torn banks of the heavens ' cloud- 
rivers. 

But stonily stands still, like death that dies 
never. 



52 



Not dead, but a weeping world bathing its 

corpses — 
Its memories, its lost hopes, in regret's hearses 
To be buried in flowerless graves, without 

incense or prayer. 

It writhes in agony, rolls out in undulating 

rills. 
This rain-melody from the sea-waves to the 

farthest hills. 
Thence to the dreary distance lost to hearing 

or sight. 

It is all dark and dank, a mourning of earth 
and heaven. 

Sorrow-laden, life-weary, long-lost, death- 
craven, 

A day lost to time, a light more baleful than 
night. 

No dead these, but a living death seeking 

peace 
From the furies — their own thoughts — 

sorrow — surcease. 
Kissing the lashing wind thinking it to be the 

breeze. 

Pour, pour, pour, O relentless, exhaustless 

pain ! 
To the measure of thine own agony, thy woe's 

refrain. 
These desolate streams of thy music, thy 

pangs of a million seas. 



53 



46 

EVENING WORSHIP 

The amber west melts into saffron. 
The east, a misty vision of rose: 
Like the sun, our souls seek repose. 
The mountains, empurpled priests. 
The river, the chant from their lips, 
Sunlit the pine-candles' crimson tips. 

At this hour of worship 

Shadows spread their wings; 

Silently the breeze-bell rings. 

The stars put a silver riband round night's 

tresses. 
The light fades like a receding song 
As fall soundless sounds from Nature's 

moon-gong. 



54 



47 

The rosy mist stilly polishes the round 
mirror, 

The moon; 
Golden her face 
Reflecting the cool sweet glory of a 
Baby sun 
When dangling 
His short golden arms in the cradle of 
the sky 

After night 
Gave him birth, 
And herself died as day dies to see the 
moon. 

This golden 
Rose-washed stone 
That the unseen hand puts on the crown 
of night 

Beside it puts 
Bits of white — 
The star-jewels like million fancies, 
worshipping 

The goddess 
Of dream. 



[55] 



48 

The sun *s golden spear, 

The violet cloud writhing in pain; 

Golden the tint of the sky. 

The tall trees wave their green-gold hair. 

Music of this hour! 
The zephyr's perfume-laden argosy 
Drifts with the song of lutes 
Down the sunset-stream that falls from 
heaven 's bower. 

Another flow of light, 

TinkHng like the intangible bells of paradise, 
Flows out of my heart 
Into the mysterious love-perfumed ocean 
of night. 



56] 



49 
TRUCE 

A field of battle — this sky, 

The sun, the hero bleeding to death; 

The shadows and lights hurl their 

Hosts of clouds ceaselessly: 

No peace ? 

Warfare all ? 

Nay, lo ! she cometh — 

The Spirit of Truce, 

The Evening Star! 



57 



so 

A PARALLEL 

Time has passed, since 

Shadows trembled to watch 

Twilight sweep the earth 

For the phantoms to trip and mince. 

A dark breeze the forest-heart stirs; 
Yet merry the face of the sky — 
Twinkling in joy 
Its innumerable eyes, the stars. 

Hushed the music within; 
Pleasure's silver laugh, dead; 
Thought lost in reverie — 
Reverie receding into nothing. 

The taper of dreams flickers 
Out, leaving the soul in dusk 
By the altar of love. 
Flower-laden as the night with stars. 



[58] 



51 
"Nothing endures," you said; 
''None can die," quoth love; 
" In the firmament of loving 
No stars set, no meteors fall." 

Yet, nothing endures, nothing, 
Naught but dust; 
Naught but regret and vain desire 
The twin monuments of life. 

Reared by time, by wrecking 
All that we seek and find. 
Its relentless waves of years 
Break even the impregnable wall of 

memory 
That thought builds 
On the embankment of hope. 

Pass all away, even we who loved. 
Dreamt as none dreamt before — 
Borne by the tide of life — 
But, lo! from our defeated destiny 
Rise our seeds reared by time 
Consecrated to love and living! 



591 



52 

DISAPPOINTMENT 

They think thee bitter: 
Thou art not made o' laughter 
Nor love's smile 
Can thy vision beguile: 
Like a black-fiery comet 
Suddenly, sinisterly, thou comest; 
Making thy fateful journey, 
Littering the floor of destiny 
With wreckages of life, 
Oflove, of heart — 
Of all visitors thou art the surest; 
Halting nowhere long, endlessly passest, 
Dragging behind thee thy train of fire 
That burneth all, heedless of curse or 
prayer. 



60] 



S3 

BUDDHA 

On thy Lotus-seat of Night, — 

Meditation closing thy eyes, — 

The Star Hosts thy awe-struck devotees: 

The Moon, thy halo unchanging. 

White-robed time telling his beads 

Of aeons on the thread of Eternity 

By the ocean of space 

Slumbering in peace at thy feet; 

While Destiny stringing the lyre of death 

Sings Nirvana's hymn. 



6i] 



54 

Ask me not to stand at thy friendship's gate — 
I, who loved thee, now must like a cold spectre 

from a far forgotten land of snow 
Watch thee fall asleep on the couch of freezing 

friendship ? 
In these arms thou sought and joyed on many 

delights 
Excavated the ruins of passion to build them anew. 
Or sailed on thy wings — these arms — over love's 

enchanted sea. 

Friendship! 
Barrier not this, but a coward's refuge — 
A shadow, not the rainbow-light of loving and life. 
O come, my pilot, conduct the bark of our twin 

souls 
From cold friendship 's haven 
Over love 's boistrous desire- foam-fringed ocean 
Till in the sheer joy and fatigue of flying 
We fail, fall and fade 
Into the heart of Passion 's another fire-born day. 



[62 



55 

Golden vines they. 
These thin hnes of light, 
Climbing the sky-wall 
After the sun sank into sleep. 

Like rills, thread-like, 
Seen from a jutting rock 
Where air is dizzy 
And fancy infinite, free. 

What fiery wine 
Tingles in these vines 
Weaving golden arabesques 
On the pale evening sky ? 

Ah, the heavens this hour 
Have drunk of sunset's ruby wine 
For those golden cobwebs to weave 
Their magic of twilight dreams. 



[63 



56 
AT SUNDOWN 

Two shadows fell, tremulous and frail. 
From the upland over the lake-surface pale, 
While the shivering reeds shook at sunset. 
As the swans sailed into a sea of jet. 

The rippling waters, and the breeze, 

And the shadows that fall from the trees. 

Mingled and melted with the twain, 

A song of white washed away by its black refrain. 

Only words remained, palpitating and few. 
Falling through the gloom and night's dew 
Like jewelled fancies rising out of a dream 
That live for a moment and die ere they gleam. 



[64] 



57 

Tears well out from my heart, 
As cloudsovercast my soul, 
x^nd blur my vision of thee. 

Melancholy this dawn, 
When thy smile and words. 
And thy sky-shaming eyes 
Are not beside me to rouse me from 
sleep. 

Though cry I without end, 

Yet a thought of thee heals many 

wounds. 
Why? thou ask me; how can I tell? 

All thou wish to take is thine; 
Not even the dust of thy feet I seek, 
Only leave me the star of thy memory 
To bathe in the rain of my weeping. 



65] 



58 

At last thou comest; 

Thy footsteps I hear across the ages, 

Over wandering fancies. 

Through shadows of dreams 

Is thy coming. Queen of queens. 

This shimmering summer of life 
That thou bringest with thee 
As a gift to my silent waiting 
Is but what I prayed to bring 
To the altar of thy coming. 

I spread the seat of my soul. 
For thee to rest thy tired limbs; 
And wave the fan of my heart 
To cool thy lotus-shaming face, 
Lady of light, queen of grace. 

Come to my bower of worship, 

Where burns the incense of devotion, 

Lay thy rose-robed body 

In the shrine of my longing, 

Where love's rainbow-songs are ringing. 



[66] 



59 

The lingering light of the sun 

Takes from the chalice of the valley 

Its mist-perfume to wash the 

Moon-face with rose. 

In the pool at my feet the goldfishes drag 

their trains of brown 
Which cleave it into parts that ceaselessly 

mingle anew. 
The moon, silver bright 
Through thousand streams sends her light 
Into the valley aswoon, listening to the 

harmony of night. 



[67] 



6o 

I have drunk your tears with insatiate lips; 
I have broken like a toy the heart of your life; 
What have I given ? your last query ! 
The cup of my heart filled I with love; 
The chalice of soul with the substance of my 

Godj 
For thee to drink my life's first love. 
Thou drankest as one that comes from a 

desert. 
Thou spiltest the nectar heedless, hke mad; 
Yet I cursed not, nor shed tears; 
But loved thee, longed to live for thy love. 
Alas! thy tears grew salt, thy love thy self's 

greedy grasp, — 
O, it is the end; let us part! 
The morning of indifference wings the gray 

sky; 
The bird-song of the other dawns the raven 's 

shriek now, — 
Shed no more tears, I tire of my drink; 
Break not thy heart; thy soul ? Let it be still ! 
Beyond the gray-cloud is the land of sunrise: 
Let us part, dear, let us be wise. 



68 



y 



6i 
SOUND BUTTERFLIES 

(IN A FOUNTAIN) 

Like interpenetrating bells of silver, 

The water-drops ring and melt 

Into new drops, like new notes 

From an untiring lyre. 

That in colored succession 

Paint our heart-beats 

From the gold of sunrise into sunset fire; 

Yet, not like that, this brush of water-drops 

Limns on the silver rim of Joy 

The dark Butterflies of Desire. 



69] 



62 

Even in sadness thou art beside me. 
In gladness, none so happy as thee; 

I love thee; 
May my love kiss the feet of thy love of me. 

My dreams are thine, day or night. 
My sleep sings in silence to the night 

Of thy delight; 
May thy heart's gifts like stars my heart's 
heaven bedight ! 

Though a sigh rises in my soul this hour; 

Closes its petals in the west the golden day-flower; 

In my bower 
Let thy love pour its rainbow shower. 



[70] 



63 

By the sea of sleep walks white-robed Night; 
The breeze but the faint rustle of her drapery 
That calls the mist-made bark of dream 
From the cavern of the Unknown to sail to us, 
Laden with endless star-like fancies. 
And She! the magician, walks on and on 
Over the sapphire embankment of the sky 
Like a moving magnet drawing behind her a 
million dream-argosies. 



[71I 



64 
FAREWELL 

(AFTER A HINDUSTANI SONG) 

Farewell, fairest of loves ! 

Life's most fanciful of gifts, 

Joy and treasure, love and wonder, 

Waking's elusive reality, 

Dream's ever-yielding divinity. 

Even thou must pass 

Beyond time's starless bar: 

Thy eyes, their lambent flames 

Shall no more illumine my night; 

Nor thy brow, home of many moods. 

Tranquil yet tormented as a sea. 

Shall ever wear the coronal of my kiss. 

Ah, kisses! blisses of fire. 

Passion 's long lingering melody 

Played by thy lips on mine. 

Even they must die — 

Intangible realities of rapture. 

Ever present wonders of desire — 

Now like autumn leaves 

Fly with the west-wind of fear. 

No, not fear that takes thee from me, 

Nor love's slayer, satiety; 

Yet art gone; thou art going. 

Oh, not to crush thy heart on mine: 

Thy breasts made but for my hands. 

No more to quiver in rapture therein ! 

Who wills this cruel decree ? 

The warmth of thy body. 

The staggering storm of thy yielding, 



[72] 



The intoxicating perfume of thy mouth: 
These, and many other endless 
Viols and lutes of passion, love, life. 
Delights of a thousand heavens. 
Who robs them of me? 
Fate! that fool in the court of love. 
Who hath no wit for laughter. 
Steals it all from me 
In the mid-hour of life; 
And as it befits his mind. 
Scatters it all over the turbid 
Stream of fear and lies. 



7J] 



65 
SATIETY 

All thy gifts must die, 

All thy thoughts must fail; 

Such were the decree writ by time 

With shadows on the scroll of fate. 

Even thy memory recedes into forgetting, 

Thy lustrous words star-like set, 

Ah, sweet! autumn's breath withers all. 

Even the west-wind fears to tread. 

All yield to the power of relentless time 

That no love nor passion can stay. 

Blown like dried leaves we now 

On the granite pavement of fate. 

No more thy lip-touch on my brow. 

Nor thy hands pleading caresses. 

Thy gifts fall and fade into nothing. 

Thy vision grows dim in life's sunset- west. 



74] 



66 

Drowsy the noonday air, 
Under the trees the still shadow 
Like a fugitive fragment of night 
Seeks shelter from the sun. 

The bird has ceased singing, 
The beggar unable to bear 
The wealth of the sun 
Spreads his torn garment 

To find peace in 

The benign shadow of sleep. 

Ah, lone soul like him, 

I spread this rag of my song 

Under the tree of hfe 

Over which blazes the sun of fate. 

The calm of its shadow 

Protects me, but where my peace? 



75 



6? 
CHATTERTON 

For summers seventeen 

This flower of spring 

Scattered fragrance 

That dwelt in its petals seventeen, 

Seventeen song-hours, 

A heart never weary; 

A soul with honey of all flowers 

A song as enchanting as stars. 

A boy never grown old, 
A lute never tiring to sing, 
A mind ne 'er chilled 
Though Hunger's hand lay cold 

Steely-cold on his breast. 

Yet the boy sang; 

Loved as alone a poet can 

Endlessly, without rest. 

Just seventeen! 

Ne'er old, though time passes; 

A golden lyre-string 

Has not yet ceased ringing: 

Rings through the heart of time 
O'er the summit of death 
To the music of the Nine 
Into the heart of Eternal Rhyme. 



[76] 



68 

A summer song it was. 
Counting of many unseen stars 
In an intangible sky 
Making new milky ways — 
Silver-shadow-paths that lead 
From sapphire abysses 
Into deeper abysses still. 
The deeps of our souls 
Lit by passion 's burning flowers 
Tremulous, timorous flames of silver, 
That with thousand hands 
Our hearts sought to pluck and scatter, 
Or make barbed garlands 
For love's nuptial hour. 
Nuptial hour, briefer than a moment. 
Longer than Heaven 's Eternal summer. 
When each flower burns to soothe. 
And each soothing petal burns anew; 
Till myriad streams of fire 
Strewn with countless flaming stars 
Bear us to the far sea of Time 
Where no summer dies. 
Nor endure the stinging moments of love's 
winter. 



77 



69 
"WHO KNOWS" 

Time's torment, 

Life's woes, 

And sorrow's wan gaze 

Are but shades 

In a picture of light 

Where nothing abides. 

All things fade. 

In fading there is beauty. 

By shedding tears 

We bathe our hearts — 

Those crushed flowers full of smart — 

For a deity not far from our souls. 

Yet, no solace in prayer. 

Pain has no largess; 

Dark has stars. 

But no barren earth its flowers. 

All are dismal and fallow; 

Yet, from the mountain 's stony heart 

Spring multitudinous rivers 

Sparkling at dawn, and 

Deepening night's gloom with 

mysterious murmurs; 
And who knows ? 
These streams that pass 
By the balcony of our past, 
Through present's wilderness. 
Into desolate future 
May reach the land of the farthest 

star. 



[78] 



Who knows ? Ah ! who knows ? 
May these song-rills 
From my heart's Uttle hill 
Empty their singing waters 
Into a sea of song-making 
Where nothing endures 
But the sound and echo of singing. 
Where sound, and echo are one, 
A moonset vale of sunset land, 
Where light is wedded to shade 
Without death, full of dying, yet not 
dead. 



79 



a^:.M.tiL^V.i^ .'., ,, ,„,.', ,,,,,„,,., 



70 

THE FIRST VISION 

The impenetrable dark — 

Darkness of cloud and night 

Coming on black silent wings 

Surround me in their folds, 

As it sits by my side on the shore of time. 

No fear, no sorrow, no hope, 
Not even the footfall of a star; 
Dim, deep sable tones 
Rise from the organ of nothing 
With its flats and sharps of clouds and 
night. 

Ripples of moments 

Waves of hours and years 

Break on the shore of space 

To speak vague, soundless words 

To my soul, alone, shade among shades. 

Not even the unheard whisper 

Of the shadow of a breeze, 

But silence ponderous, peaceful. 

Afraid of its own self 

A mute hound at my feet. 

Who art thou ? 

Whom do I know in this emptiness? 

Who has Hved with me? 

And called me from the deeps of time? 



80] 



Recedes the bank of space; 
Fades away even the unfilled time, 
No light, no sound, not even a dream; 
Yet who speaks through silence? 
Who plays this music of night? 

Like an intangible river it flows 
With waves of shadow-sound 
Between banks of mountainous silence- 
O, who ! who are you ? 
Light in a world of shadows, 
Rainbow among sunless clouds. 
Bark of song on this sea of silence, 
O ferryman of the soul ! 
O Word on Infinite's scroll. 



[8i 



-'""■'■"'■" 



71 
SHANTI* 

Sleep shadows, sleep light; 

Sleep tune, sleep speech; 

Sleep night, sleep day; 

Sleep children in the cradle of rest. 

Dream stars, dream moon; 

Dream sea; dream O, sun; 

Dream rainbow, dream storm; 

Dream rain, O, milk from Heaven*s breast. 

Rest ye feet, rest ye hands; 
Rest bleeding hours of even ; 
Rest O, heart torn and burnt, 
Rest my fancies, day is done. 

Sleep night, sleep with star-eyes closed; 
Sleep sorrow in death's silent repose; 
Sleep O, Soul, be it twilight or morn; 
Sleep thou too, O, sleep, heedless of moon 
and sun. 



♦Shanti is the Sanskrit for "Peace." 

[82] 



